Scars
by Micayasha
Summary: Gippal shows Baralai that he isn't the only one with scars. CRIMSON SQUAD FIC: Gippalai.


**author's note: **With the same theme (trust) as my previous ficlet, _Touch. _

This was done during my lunch break, so it's rushed and sloppy and concrit would be _greatly_ appreciated. Pull no punches - I won't be hurt! 

I am aware that in video games, lots of characters have white hair or green hair or whatever, and it's never explained. However, no other young character in FFX-2 ever had white hair, so I am going out on a limb and saying it's unusual, even in Spira.

Also, I know that Paine is 16 as well as Gippal. However, I would think that she wouldn't have told them that. He probably thinks she is the same age as Baralai.

* * *

_And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am _

-the Goo Goo Dolls_, Iris

* * *

_It would have been a beautiful day if it weren't so damned hot, Gippal thought. Stretched out along the bank of the oasis, the sun painted his closed lids pink and the sand was almost too hot even through his clothes. The water, lapping at his toes, was lukewarm but nonetheless refreshing in comparison with the sweltering heat of everything else. Paine was probably going to kick his ass later for not helping set up the tents, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. 

"How old are you?"

Gippal opened his eyes to find Baralai standing over him, looking at him with great concentration as though Gippal was a puzzle.

Gippal knew his smile was uneasy. "I told you," he said, sitting up and trying to force ease into his tone. "Eighteen. Just like you."

But Baralai shook his head and crouched down next to him. "No, you're not."

As childish as it was, in his nervousness Gippal couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "Says who?"

Baralai smiled. "Says me," he answered teasingly, touching Gippal's cheek. "You're not even old enough to shave."

Gippal scowled and lay back down, on his side this time - away from Baralai and his questions.

"Gippal -"

"Why is your hair white?" He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth, and he knew from the stunned silence that followed that it had been the wrong thing to say.

He wanted to call after Baralai's retreating footsteps, but he had nothing to say.

* * *

It wasn't the first time Gippal had wondered about Baralai's hair. You didn't often see an eighteen-year-old boy with white hair. He could have believed it was just very pale blond, but Baralai's skin was too dark for that. Not to mention his eyebrows and lashes were dark. But Gippal had never asked before this, because no one went white at such a young age naturally. He had once read somewhere that severe trauma, especially in one's childhood, could turn someone's hair white very early. He hadn't wanted to pry, but he couldn't help but wonder.

Paine was no help. "What are you asking me for?" she demanded when he brought it up. "I'm not the one dragging him into dark corners and gazing after him like a lovesick puppy."

Gippal flushed. He hadn't realized they'd been that obvious - but then, he shouldn't have underestimated Paine. Very little got by her.

"If you want to know, why do you just ask him?" she went on.

"He won't tell me."

"Then maybe you should respect that," Paine said sharply. It wasn't light enough to be a mere suggestion.

"Has he said something to you?"

"No. I figure it's his business. It's not like I've regaled him with tales of my youth. Leave it alone, Gippal. If and when he's ready, he'll tell you."

* * *

Gippal knew that his forged papers hadn't looked very professional. He knew that there was no way they could have fooled anybody with half a brain. He figured there hadn't been enough recruits for the Squad, and that was why the maesters had knowingly accepted a minor.

But if he admitted to being underage - if someone actually reported it to the maesters - they would be forced to take action. And Gippal was fairly sure that 'action' would involve incarceration and violence of some kind.

He didn't really think Baralai would do that to him. But it was still a frightening thought - not to mention, he didn't like being the youngest in their group. He was good with his gun, and he could hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. He was more than competent in battle, camping, and navigation. He didn't want them to look at him differently just because he was a couple of years younger.

Especially Baralai. Gippal didn't think he could handle it if Baralai looked at him like that - like he was a child, an innocent.

Gippal hadn't been a child for a long time.

* * *

When they crawled into their bedrolls that night, there was complete silence in Gippal and Baralai's tent. And though Nooj commented to Paine that now he could finally get some sleep, she knew he was wondering what had happened that for the first night in a long while, the boys had not shared even so much as a kiss goodnight.

It was past midnight when Gippal finally gave up on sleep. He tried to be quiet as he left the tent. He took his gun, even though it was unlikely he would find fiends out at this time of night. Paine, who was on watch duty outside the tents, said nothing when he walked by her - just handed him a whistle in case of fiends.

It wasn't far to the oasis - in fact, it was close enough that Gippal probably wouldn't have even needed the whistle to call for help. He sat by the water's edge, pulling his coat closer around his body. The desert was fickle - scorching hot by day, and nearly freezing by night. He was used to the machina heating and cooling systems in Home; his previous trips out into the desert had been brief, and he hadn't been out since he was thirteen.

"Here." Something warm and soft dropped onto Gippal's shoulders, and he jumped, looking up to find Baralai standing there, a blanket wrapped around him.

"Thanks." Gippal looked back at the oasis' still waters, glittering with moonlight. Desert nights may be cold, but they were really very pretty, Gippal thought. The skies were clear and the air was fresh and clean. And there was a stillness about the desert at night. It was peaceful.

Baralai sat down next to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "If I actually upset you today. I didn't realize it was a sensitive issue. I wouldn't have –"

"Sixteen."

Baralai blinked. "Oh."

"Sorry I pried. None of my business."

Baralai looked down, tracing idle patterns in the sand with a finger. "Just out of curiosity, why _did_ you ask about my hair? Why does it matter what colour my hair is?"

"It doesn't." Gippal shrugged. "It just seemed like the best way to get you off the topic."

"The best defense is a good offense," Baralai murmured, half to himself, and Gippal shrugged again.

"It was stupid. Like I said, it was none of my business. I just…"

When Gippal trailed off, Baralai looked at him quizzically. "You just what?"

"I… you know you can trust me, right, 'Lai?"

Baralai smiled oddly. "Of course I do."

"Not enough, though."

It took a moment for Baralai to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, that. How do you know it's not a simple birth defect? Some genetic mutation?"

Gippal shook his head. "Nah. If it was as simple as that, you'd have told me by now."

Baralai didn't answer, and guilt and regret began to settle, heavy, in Gippal's stomach. "Sorry," he said again. "Never mind."

It was a long time before either of them spoke again – Gippal didn't want to go back to the tent without Baralai, and he had a feeling the conversation wasn't finished.

"It's not a matter of trust," Baralai said at last. "You should know that. I do trust you, Gippal. If I didn't, we wouldn't have the relationship we do. You know things about me that no one else does."

"Then why don't I know this?"

Baralai swallowed hard and looked down in an attempt to hide his over-bright eyes, and Gippal felt the beginnings of panic rise in him. He really hoped Baralai wasn't going to cry. He wasn't any good with crying people, and above that, he hated to see Baralai in any kind of distress.

"It's not trust," Baralai said, and Gippal thanked the heavens his voice was steady. "It's fear. I'm afraid, Gippal."

Gippal laid a hand on his shoulder, awkward even though they'd had so much more intimate physical contact than this. But this moment felt pivotal, and he was terrified he'd mess it up. "Whatever it was, it's in the past, now. We have this Al Bhed saying… _Sasuneac yna hela, pid dryd'c ymm drao yna._ 'Memories are nice, but that's all they are.' It can't hurt you now."

Baralai looked at him, then, eyes wide and still too bright. "Yes, it can. It can make you look at me differently. You, and Nooj, and Paine – your opinions matter to me, and you wouldn't see me the same way if you knew."

Gippal hesitated, and then withdrew his hand. "How do you know that's a bad thing?" he said. "Maybe we'd respect you for it. That you were strong enough to get through it, whatever it was."

Baralai looked down and laughed without any humor, and the raw sound made Gippal's heart hurt.

When Baralai looked up again, Gippal's eyepatch was lying in the sand, and Gippal was meeting his gaze, steady as a rock, even as his hands shook where they rested on his knees.

"It's not a very pretty sight, I know," he said, Baralai's silence only making his anxiousness worse. "I didn't really want you to see it. It's gross. But I had to show you because… you're not the only one with scars. Shit happens. It sucks. But it usually gets better when you talk about it."

Baralai swallowed again, and Gippal wondered if Baralai would ever want him again. Those doe-brown eyes were so full of sadness – no pity, for which Gippal was grateful. He knew this scarred, ruined eye could easily tear down everything he'd built between them – it would be so easy. He knew Baralai could ask what had happened, and Gippal would tell him - Yevonites. He wouldn't lie, not even with good intentions. He wouldn't soften the blow. It _had_ been Yevonites. It had been Baralai's people. For all he knew, it might have been friends or family of Baralai's. And having been told that, Gippal knew Baralai would then ask why such a thing had been done. And once again, Gippal wouldn't lie. Just because they could. Just because I dared to be born with swirls in my eyes.

Maybe Baralai sensed the delicacy of this, too, because at first he didn't speak. He reached up, slowly, carefully, as if Gippal were a wild animal who could bolt at any moment, and touched Gippal's right temple, just beside his ruined eye.

"It's not gross," was all he said. And he leaned forward and kissed Gippal in a way he seldom did – gentle. Slow. Soft. Their kisses were usually passionate and hurried, with the worry of being caught and with the knowledge that they didn't have much time.

When Baralai pulled away, Gippal started to put the eyepatch back on, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. "Don't," Baralai said. "Leave it off."

Gippal hesitated and then put it down with clear reluctance.

"Did it hurt?"

Gippal wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the question, but he answered anyway. Had the knife, twisting around in his eye like a screw, shredding flesh and tearing nerves, hurt? "Yeah." Like fire.

"I was afraid, too," he admitted. "Scared to death you'd think it was ugly and repulsive and you wouldn't want me again because of it."

Baralai kissed him again, and it was with great effort that Gippal pulled away to say, "But obviously, I was wrong. And I can tell you right now, there's nothing in your past that would make me stop wanting you."

Baralai leaned into his side, his fingers tangling with Gippal in the sand. "Okay," he said. And he started to talk.

_

* * *

_

**author's note:** For those who hate indetermined endings, I sincerely apologize. I have my idea about Baralai's story, but you can make up your own. It kind of spoiled the effect when I actually gave the story, because it isn't really the point of this fic.

It's highly unlikely I'll be continuing this to write Baralai's story. Sorry!


End file.
